Corporate Seduction (8 page)

A slow, soft connecting of lips and then he pulled slightly away. “I like kissing you, Reka.”

Her eyes fluttered and she leaned into him. “I think I like kissing you, too.” And to prove her point she covered his lips this time, moving her mouth sinuously over his.

Khalil grabbed the back of her neck, holding her steady, and opened his mouth to grant her the access she so expertly requested. And as he reveled in the experience, letting her take the lead, allowing her to explore, to tantalize him to her satisfaction, he knew he would never get enough of her.

* * *

Khalil closed the door, tossed his keys on the table and headed for his bedroom. He stepped out of his shoes and placed them on the rack at the bottom of his walk-in closet. Grabbing a hanger, he draped his suit jacket neatly over it and placed it on the door handle, then retrieved his tie from the side pocket and carefully strung it over the tie rack. A grin crept across his face as he remembered Reka slipping the silk from around his neck.

The hard-on he’d had for the last two hours throbbed and he groaned. Reaching for his belt buckle, he was headed toward the bathroom, toward a cold shower, or a hot one with plenty of soap, whichever offered the quickest form of relief, when the flashing red light on the answering machine stopped him.

Beep.

He continued to undress while he waited for the first message to play.

Khalil, your father and I do not appreciate being stood up.

As he stepped out of his pants and folded them at the crease, he cursed. He’d completely forgotten about dinner at the country club with his parents.

However, I’m sure you have a good excuse for being rude. I’ll expect to hear it tomorrow at brunch. Don’t be late.

Khalil pressed the erase button. Sunday brunch at the Franklin house was a ritual he and his sister rarely missed. It was the time the family used to catch up. Their business and social lives were so involved that this was the only time they could carve out for themselves.

Now he’d pissed his mother off. So the normally two hour family conference would now be marred by Naomi Franklin’s dismay over her son’s thoughtlessness. Oh well, he’d deal with that tomorrow.

He shrugged out of his shirt and prepared himself for the next message. No doubt his mother had called Danielle to question her as to his whereabouts and, since Danielle had no idea where he’d been this evening, she would have called him with a few choice words herself, angry because he’d involved her in this mess.

However, the voice that echoed through his bedroom was not that of his little sister.

Hello, darling. I was just sitting here thinking about you. And you’re not at home. I remember the Saturday evenings we used to spend together.

Sonya’s sophisticated drawl settled over him and he sighed. For a woman as educated and polished as she was, she had a really hard time understanding that their relationship was over.

I really need to speak with you. Call me whenever you get in.

Silence.

I’ll wait up.

Khalil quickly hit delete. “You’re going to lose a lot of sleep tonight.”

He moved to the bathroom, his thoughts returning to the soft lips he’d kissed, the full breasts he’d felt pressed against his chest, the plush, round bottom he’d gripped only hours ago. Turning the nozzle to the left, he knew cold water would never suffice. Grabbing the bar of soap he let his head fall back as hot water sprayed against his skin and his body demanded release.

To: [email protected]

From: Jack

Date: November 29, 2004

Subject: Up All Night

Jill wasn’t in the mood this weekend so I went out alone. Imagine my surprise when I saw you. That little black dress was hot, but I think your choice of men is all wrong.

The way you moved on that dance floor had me thinking about you all night. Luckily, Sensuality’s latest Masterful Massage Oil was available. With every stroke I imagined it was you, and suddenly Jill disappeared.

Jack

Reka gasped, her eyes quickly closing, then reopening. Was this for real? Had this pervert really been at the club Saturday night?

She focused on her computer screen, then frowned as she noticed only her name and email address in the ‘To’ line, not the firm’s group address.

Instinctively, she picked up her phone to call Khalil. He needed to see this. Then she put the receiver down as she remembered yesterday’s resolution.

Khalil Franklin was a co-worker, a co-worker who had kissed her senseless then asked her to do him a personal favor, but a co-worker nonetheless. There wasn’t now, nor would there ever be, anything intimate between them.

She had no intention of making a fool out of herself for him, or any other man. Therefore, she would treat him as she treated everybody else at Page & Associates, as if she could do just fine without them. She’d passed his office this morning without considering knocking to say good morning. The door had been closed and she hadn’t even wondered if he was in there, at least not until she’d gotten her cup of coffee and had her morning gossip session with Tacoma.

But this email was business. Or was it? Calling him to report this new message wasn’t personal, even though the message was directed to her, and not to the company. Maybe she should simply delete it and get on with her work for the day. She drummed her short, polished nails on the desk blotter and considered the matter again.

Glancing back at the screen, she realized deleting the message wouldn’t solve anything, nor would hiding out in her office. She’d worked here for seven years and, in that time, she hadn’t let anyone intimidate her. She damn sure wasn’t going to start now. Besides, they needed to find out who Jack was so they could finally put a stop to his harassment. And maybe with him targeting her email box only, they’d have a better chance of doing just that.

With a click of the mouse she printed the message, saved it to her personal folder then closed it. Paper in hand, she made her way down the hall to Khalil’s office.

* * *

After the interrogation that was supposed to be brunch yesterday, Khalil had opened a bottle of wine, switched on the football game and immersed himself in the box of emails from the mysterious Jack.

He’d thought of Reka often, but figured he wouldn’t pressure her by trying to see her every day. Besides, he knew he’d see her at the office. Surely he could wait.

But now it was after eleven o’clock on Monday morning and he’d neither seen nor heard from her. However, he wouldn’t pursue her in the office, wouldn’t allow his personal life to interfere with business. He’d promised to do a job for Keith, and no matter how much she tempted him, he wouldn’t allow Reka to mess that up.

Still, the thought of her smile, or one of her smart remarks, warmed him, and he momentarily entertained thoughts of heading down the hall. Dragging his hands down his face, he shook his head to clear his mind. He had work to do.

Just when he’d buckled down, punched in a few lines of code and attempted to trace Jack’s last message, there was a quick knock on his door before it swung open.

“It seems our friend Jack has a roving eye.” Reka closed the door behind her, then moved to his desk and set the paper down before taking a seat across from him.

In those few seconds Khalil took in the form-fitting wool charcoal gray dress, long black leather boots and glossy frost-colored lips. Her perfume—bold and distinctive, fitting her perfectly—aroused him instantly.

“Oh, good morning,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes away from her body and picking up the piece of paper she’d deposited in front of him.

Reka looked at her watch to keep from staring at him. “Right, good morning.” He wore brown today. A chocolate-colored suit jacket, beige shirt and spice-toned tie. His square jaw, covered with hair she remembered was soft to the touch, clenched for a moment before he looked down at the paper.

“He sent this to you?” Khalil chanced another look at her. She didn’t seem the least bit upset but he’d felt a sudden discomfort after reading Jack’s words.

“Yes,” she nodded. “So now we know he frequents night clubs and likes to dance.”

Khalil’s eyes narrowed. “But how does he know who you are?” He told himself he was doing his job. Everybody was a suspect until he proved otherwise.

Reka blinked, not sure she liked his tone. “I don’t know how he knew it was me. But he was definitely at the club on Saturday, and now it seems I’ve pushed Jill to the side.” She crossed her legs and sat back in the chair. “He’s some kind of hard up to be thinking about a stranger while he jerked off.”

Her words touched a familiar spot and Khalil quickly looked away from her. Jack had used the Masterful Massage Oil, while he’d settled for more traditional methods.

“Did you respond to this?” he questioned, refusing to look directly at her.

He was acting weird, as if they’d just met, or as if he were a cop. She felt a sting of disappointment. “No, I didn’t answer it.” Her lip upturned in anger. “What? Did you think I’d hop at the chance for some cyber sex with this nutcase?”

Her words were curt, her neck rigid. He’d upset her. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what did you mean? It seems I’m having a hard time understanding exactly what you want.” At first she’d thought he was just trying to date her for some kind of fling. Then he’d asked his favor, and she figured that’s what the date thing had been about all along. Then he’d kissed her; now he acted as if none of that had ever happened. This was exactly the type of drama she was trying to avoid.

Khalil’s lips tightened as he considered her words. The answer to that question was so easy that he had to fight to keep it from rolling off his lips. He wanted her, but knew she didn’t want to hear that, especially not right now.

He didn’t like the message from Jack. Didn’t like what it said or what it implied. Jack had just made his little joke personal, and Khalil knew all too well what could come of sexual stalking, whether it be online or in person.

“I want what we both want.” He spoke slowly, his eyes fixed on hers. “I want to find out who Jack is and put a stop to these messages.”

She shifted uncomfortably beneath his heated glare. “Maybe with him mailing me personally you can track him faster.” And then we won’t have a need for you here. The office had been functioning just fine without an IT supervisor before he came. They’d continue to do just fine after he left.

That was a thought, a good possibility, Khalil reluctantly admitted to himself. Still, he didn’t like the idea of some pervert watching her. “Did you save the message?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have to use your computer to initiate the trace codes.” He stood, walked around the desk, and opened the door.

He was holding it open for her, just as he had on their date, yet things were definitely different now. Reka lifted her chin proudly. She was not hurt by his coldness, nor did she want him to treat her any differently then he did any other co-worker. If this is how it was to be between them now, so be it. She didn’t need or want it any other way. At least that’s what her mind said. The sharp stabs in her gut symbolized something else. She walked past him, muttering a quick, “Fine.”

* * *

Two hours later Khalil cursed loudly. He’d been in Reka’s office trying desperately to trace that message. But Jack was clever enough to cover his tracks very well.

He’d read the message again, over and over until he could probably recite it from memory. Not only had Jack seen her and commented on her dress, but he’d also seen Khalil and felt it necessary to advise Reka of her poor choice in men. That, he now admitted, bothered him immensely. Who the hell was this joker to tell her who she should and shouldn’t go out with? And what was wrong with them being together? Absolutely nothing. His fingers pounded the keyboard with extra force as he fumed. This would only add credence to Reka’s belief that they weren’t suited for each other, making his job of convincing her otherwise that much harder.

ACCESS DENIED.

The letters flashed brightly for about the billionth time. He sat back in the chair, refusing to mutter another expletive in this office. He rested his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers beneath his chin he tried to clear his mind, to focus on the job at hand. Impossible.

The office smelled like her. The James Brown bobblehead perched on top of her monitor reminded him of her feisty nature. Looking around her desk, he didn’t see any photos, not even of her family. He thought that was odd, considering how close she, her mother and her grandmother appeared to be. She had appointments scribbled on her desk calendar and he flipped through a few pages, trying to get a peek inside her life. She was going to the hairdresser one day after work, going to court another and going out shopping with Tacoma another day. What was it with those two? he wondered.

He wondered what the court date was about. Was she in some type of trouble? Picking up a pen, he jotted down the date, time and address she’d written on her calendar, then stuck the piece of paper in his pocket. His snooping was brought to a halt when Reka and Tacoma waltzed into her office with bags of Chinese food.

“You’re still here?” she asked.

He couldn’t tell if she was still mad at him or not. The fact that Tacoma smiled and moved quickly to the desk, talking in his chipper tone, made Khalil a little more comfortable. If Reka were mad at him, Tacoma would be a good buffer.

“Haven’t had any luck, huh?” Tacoma set down the bags and began taking out boxes. “Well, you need to take a break. We’ve got plenty for lunch, just take your pick. I’ll go to the lounge and get you a soda. Is Diet Coke okay?” Tacoma asked with a smile.

Khalil’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t had anything since his cup of coffee this morning, and that food was smelling good. “Make that a regular Coke; my body can’t digest anything diet.” He returned Tacoma’s smile.

“I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Tacoma chirped.

Reka rolled her eyes at him as he made his way out the door, then resigned herself to the inevitable. “We’ve got shrimp fried rice, beef and broccoli, egg foo yung and egg rolls. Help yourself.” She pulled out napkins and plastic forks, placing them on the desk. “And don’t spill anything, or you’re cleaning my desk.”

Khalil chuckled. “I’ll be extra careful.” She was avoiding eye contact with him, and he realized it was because she didn’t know how to take him any more than he knew how to take her. He reached out, took her hand just as she was about to pass him a napkin. “I’m sorry about this morning.”

“What?” His touch alone scattered her thoughts, even though the sight of him in her office had done enough of that already.

“I was a little harsh with you this morning, and I apologize.” She hadn’t pulled her hand away; that was a good sign. Those dazzling eyes pinned him, and he wondered what she was thinking.

“Don’t worry about it. We all get that way sometimes in this office.” He’d apologized; that was something new to her. A man apologizing, and for something as simple as talking to her harshly. She was amazed. Although his coolness had agitated her this morning, she wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of mentioning it. Now she didn’t need to, he’d taken care of it.

“It won’t happen again,” he promised.

They were silent, each watching the other, until Tacoma re-entered the room.

“So Khalil, what do you think about evening weddings?” Tacoma put the sodas down and dropped into the chair across from Reka’s desk. “I think they’re romantic, but Terry thinks we should have something earlier, like a brunch or something.” He rolled his eyes skyward before reaching for one of the little white boxes and flipping open the lid.

Khalil was still staring at Reka and had to focus to answer Tacoma’s question. He opened his mouth, then closed it quickly. Wait a minute, was Tacoma asking him about wedding plans?

Khalil’s scrunched-up face made Reka giggle. “This wedding has consumed Tacoma’s life. You’ll have to excuse him.”

Taking the box of food and napkin she offered him, he sat back in the chair and gave the question a little more thought. He and Sonya had been planning to have an early afternoon wedding. “I like the evening idea.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. I’m thinking candlelight and an elegant dinner,” Tacoma continued animatedly.

Reka kept quiet while she scooped noodles into her mouth.

Noticing that she’d given him the spicy beef and broccoli, Khalil nodded in her direction, then took a bite. “That should be nice. Where are you thinking of having the wedding?” He prayed Tacoma didn’t say in a church.

“Ms. Thang here is supposed to be venue shopping for me.”

Khalil looked to Reka. “Really? What are your thoughts on the perfect wedding, Reka?” Again, any and everything about her intrigued him. He simply couldn’t gain enough knowledge where she was concerned.

Reka rolled her eyes at Tacoma, then looked casually at Khalil. “Personally, I don’t know why there has to be all that pomp and circumstance. If you’re really all that hyped about being together, then a simple ceremony at someone’s house should be just fine.”

“Is that what you’d have for your wedding?” With his plastic fork he dug into the box, not looking up at her.

She leaned her head to the side in thought. “Seeing as I’m not ever getting married, it really doesn’t matter.” She knew that would make him look up, and before he could speak she continued, “But if I did, yes. I’d have a small ceremony with only my closest friends. Maybe in a nice restaurant or on a balcony somewhere. But it wouldn’t be anything fabulous, just me and my man committing to each other.”